


Selfish

by Katia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bath Houses, Bisexual Remus Lupin, Bisexuality, Bottom Sirius Black, Drama, Dream Sex, Drinking, Drug Use, Falling In Love, First Time Topping, Flashbacks, Gay, Gay Sirius Black, M/M, Minor Sirius Black/James Potter, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining Remus Lupin, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Rutting, Shoplifting, Sirius Black Adopts Harry Potter, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius Black Lives, Sirius Black Raises Harry Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin Raise Harry Potter, Sirius Black's Flying Motorbike, Smoking, Top Remus Lupin, Wet Dream, Writer Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 01:42:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19819942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katia/pseuds/Katia
Summary: Free from Azkaban after five years, Sirius gains custody of his godson and decides to raise him with Remus. Despite Remus and Sirius' past attraction to one another and the seemingly obvious suggestions that they're deeply in love, the pair waits for the right moment to do something about it.





	Selfish

BLACK RELEASED FROM AZKABAN, WIZARD CHARGED WITH MURDER - Special evening edition of the _Daily Prophet_ , 19 December 1986

Notorious criminal Sirius Black was released from Azkaban this morning after the Wizengamot determined that a different man, until recently presumed dead, committed mass murder in London five years ago. The Ministry has promised to release a report detailing the case to assure the public that Black does not pose a threat to public safety.

“Your safety and security of mind are our top priorities,” said Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold at a press conference on the day of Black’s release. “Rest assured, Black is entirely innocent of the crimes with which he was charged. The Wizengamot and I take responsibility for instilling misplaced fear in the public, and I hope you will be able to welcome Sirius Black back into the community.”

On 1 November, 1981, Sirius Black was found in the aftermath of a Blasting Curse that killed twelve Muggles along with his friend Peter Pettigrew. Due to Black’s behavior at the explosion site, his family ties to You-Know-Who and the post-war flood of Death Eater convictions, the Ministry rushed to convict Black without trial. Black was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Knowing only as much as the Ministry chose to disclose, the public firmly believed in Black’s guilt.

The case remained closed until Remus Lupin, a close friend of Black’s, found evidence that would ultimately clear his name . . . As compensation for Black’s false imprisonment, the Wizengamot ruled that he should receive monthly installments of 200 galleons from the Treasury for five years. In March, Black will gain custody of his six-year-old godson, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived . . .

* * *

Harry James Potter, 24 March 1987

“How do I look?” Sirius gave a quick twirl, then pulled self-consciously at his button-down shirt. He was still getting used to the sudden weight he had put on after living as a skeleton; nothing seemed to fit the way he remembered.

“You look like you’re divorced and are about to pick up your kid for the weekend per your custody agreement,” said Remus, looking him up and down, “and your ex-wife is there so you want to prove how put-together you are. Oh, and you’re subtly reminding her that you’re gay, but not so much so that she’s concerned for the kid’s well-being.”

Sirius tried to laugh, but only succeeded in sounding manic.

“You look good! Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“No, I can handle myself. And they’d only make assumptions about us.”

Remus grinned. “Should I invite Angie, then?”

“No.” Sirius caught himself. “I mean, then they’d be even more confused. Hang on, are you saying I should have brought Angie? Pretended we were married?”

“You’re good at acting, but not that good.”

“Really?” Sirius feigned hurt. “Your honesty can be brutal sometimes.”

Remus shook his head and squeezed Sirius’ arm, sending warmth down to his fingertips. “You’ll be fine, Padfoot.”

“Hmm, fine will have to do.” No matter what, the Dursleys were going to be mistrustful when he came to pick up little Harry Potter. From what James had told him about the Dursleys, they were shitty, image-obsessed people who only cared about themselves. If they at all suspected Sirius was gay, they would probably call the Muggle police, assuming they didn’t faint from shock first. Of course, he hadn’t brought that up when he had spoken to Albus the day before. A few days after Sirius’ release, Albus met with him about Harry’s future care. Or more accurately, to ask Sirius to relinquish his guardianship. What a load of bull, there was no way in hell Sirius would have let Harry live with a bunch of racist Tories. _Protect him as though there is still a present danger,_ Albus had told him. If anyone so much as laid a finger on him…

Sirius parked his motorcycle down the road and walked up Privet Drive to the Dursleys. The neighborhood seemed nice enough, if not painfully dull. He caught a glimpse of Petunia carrying groceries from the car and jogged to catch up and help. By the time he reached the house, she had just closed the front door. Trying to steady his breathing, Sirius knocked. There was a peephole in the door, at which Sirius stared, smiling a bit, until the door slowly opened.

Petunia stared back at him, Vernon looming behind her. “We were expecting you tomorrow.”

“Hello, good to see you. There was a change of circumstances.” Sirius pushed past them, despite their attempts to block his way. “There’s a Muggle—er, non-magic ice cream shop opening down the street from my place today, I wanted to take Harry there for a free sample. At least, I wanted to get a free sample and thought Harry would like to tag along.” Even if someone had cast the Imperius Curse on him, Sirius thought he wouldn’t be able to stop talking to fill the silence. He only shut up when he saw Harry at the end of the corridor in his pajamas. Sirius was so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t noticed Petunia and Vernon’s flushed faces and awkward stammering.

“That’s all well and good,” said Petunia after clearing her throat, “but we haven’t yet explained to him that he’ll be leaving.”

“What, you haven’t? You’ve known for months now! I don’t want to traumatize the poor boy . . .”

“He’ll be fine,” said Vernon, drawing himself up to his full height. “Come here, boy.”

Harry stared at Sirius as he walked to meet them. He looked more curious than scared.

“Hi, Harry,” said Sirius, crouching down.

The boy blinked at him, clinging to the ends of his oversized shirt.

“Listen, I’m your daddy’s friend. Or rather, I was his friend, before he died—passed away. And I’ve come to take you to a new home in London, where you’ll have lots of toys, and a bedroom all to your own, and new friends. How does that sound?”

Harry’s face scrunched up. “D’you have any other children?”

“No, we—I don’t. I promise, though, you won’t be lonely—”

“I don’t mind,” said Harry quietly.

“That’s brilliant! You know, you look just like your father. Apart from your eyes. Ah, I can’t believe it, really, how much you’ve grown — ”

“What’s going on, Mummy?” came a voice from the kitchen.

“Nothing, Dudley, dear!” replied Petunia, her voice slightly tremulous.

Vernon had fetched a small bag, presumably stuffed with Harry’s belongings. “Here’s the boy’s things.”

“Is Harry going on a trip?” asked Dudley, head peering out of the kitchen.

Petunia managed a strained smile. “Harry’s leaving, dear. For a long time.”

“Why?”

“It’s difficult to—”

“Mummy, why is that man taking him away?”

“Duddykins, he was only staying with us for a little while. This is his father.”

“ _Friend_ of his father.” Merlin forbid his actual dad be brown, was that it?

Petunia shot a beady-eyed glare at Sirius, who took the bag from Vernon.

“I can mail you updates, if you like,” said Sirius, to which Petunia and Vernon seemed to shake their heads. “Otherwise, Harry is out of your life forever.” Once he had taken Harry’s hand and they were nearly out the door, he added, “Good riddance.”

Harry was silent as they walked. In shock, probably.

“Have you ridden on a motorcycle before, Harry?”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It’s actually quite safe. It’s a magic motorcycle.”

“Magic?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

Transformation, 15 January 1987

“I can’t. . .”

Remus bent down, cradling Sirius’ face, willing him to be strong.

“Moony, I’m fucking useless. . . I can’t do it this time, I’m sorry. . .”

“You’re not useless.” It was nearly midnight, when Remus would turn—three hours before the moon reached its peak. “Don’t think about what could go wrong, just think about what you’ve always done. All you have to do is be here for me. You’re here.”

“I’m here with you,” said Sirius, then let out a hysterical laugh. “But am I here _for_ you?”

“I forgive you. We all fuck up. Especially in war. And I’ll forgive you if you mess up tonight.” He sat down on the floor, having used the remainder of his patience and energy to assuage Sirius’ fear. Whatever happened after that, the memories only came in flashes, until Remus awoke at the grinding of his bones. Sirius, still in dog form, paced around him until the transformation was complete, then was at once at his side in human form. As Remus lay motionless and naked on the floor, Sirius ran his hand from the top of his neck to the base of his spine. Dimly, Remus wondered how Sirius felt, touching his skin like this. Did Sirius dissociate as he felt the scars on his back? How could he handle it otherwise, fingers feeling every ridge, the remainders of his pain? It took a while for Remus to register the humming of a song, soft and deep, though he couldn’t recognize it.

* * *

James and Lily Potter, 20 June 1979

Fingers trembling, Sirius tied his hair up and reached into his coat for a cigarette. After a few failed snaps, he sprung a flame from his finger to light the end, then inhaled. Finally a goddamn break from that love-fest.

The door to the back of the building opened, and Remus stepped out into the cool evening air, his face tinged with concern. “There you are.” He tugged his tie loose as he joined Sirius to lean against the wall. “You do realize how much attention’s on you, don’t you? It’s hard not to notice something’s off when you’re the best man.”

“Tsk. James hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Nor has anyone else, I’ll bet.” Sirius looked Remus over, unable to comprehend how someone so self-aware in some ways could be so clueless in others. “You noticed, though.”

“I wanted to check in on you.”

_And_ he couldn’t tell how bloody sharp he looked in a tailored suit. “I’d much rather be checked out.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Cut the shit, Pads.” He only called Sirius “Pads” when he was frustrated. “Will you pretend to be sober for two seconds? I have to ask you something.”

“Fire away.”

“Do you love him?”

Sirius groaned. After a final drag of his cigarette, he tossed it onto the ground and it fizzled away.

“You can tell me.”

“Hm.” Sirius stepped forward, faltering a bit, and hugged Remus. “I don’t know. I think so.” They stood like that for a while, Sirius’ cheek pressed against Remus’ shoulder, breathing. Through the haze of drink, Sirius noticed a shiver in Remus’ exhale, a quickness of his breath. Sober enough to recognize he could test his theory, he slipped one of his hands up to Remus’ neck, fingers playing gently on his skin.

Remus’s breath hitched and he stepped away, face red. “You’re quite drunk, aren’t you?”

Sirius shrugged and mumbled, “Aren’t I?” as he struggled to process the realization that he had crossed the line again.

“Very mature. This mopey look doesn’t suit you, and to be honest, I’m running out of sympathy for you. Today of all days for you to be honest . . . ! You’ve got to tell James, sort it out with him. And Lily, too.”

“It’s not a big deal, I can manage it on my own.”

“God, you’re unbelievable.”

“It’s my choice, Remus.”

“Exactly, and have you realized what little choice we have nowadays?”

“What do you mean?”

“The war. None of us asked for this. Who knows how much time we have left.”

“Merlin, you’re cheery, per usual. I should never have told you about this.” Sirius stepped forward to leave, but Remus came between him and the door.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I’ve barely listened to you all night. You know how distracting you are in a suit.” This comment worked to take Remus aback long enough for Sirius to slip past, reenter the indulgent celebration with a smile.

* * *

**Remus** and Sirius’ Night Out, 29 July 1978

“Sirius?” Remus sat up in his bed, squinting in the dark. There was movement at the window.

“ _Muffliato_. _Lumos_.” The Wand-Lighting Charm revealed Sirius’ cheery face. “Hey, Moony. We’re going out.”

Sighing, Remus covered his face with his pillow. “Do you ever sleep?”

“Oh, of course.” Sirius sat down at the edge of the bed and set his wand down. “Very rarely this early, though.”

As Remus gradually returned to the waking world, adrenaline began to race through him. He glanced at the time, squinting to be sure he read the clock correctly. “It’s one in the morning!”

“So there’s plenty of night ahead of us. Get dressed. I promise it will be fun: we’re going to London.”

“Fine. You can pick out something for me to wear. In the meantime, I’m going to get some coffee.”

“Here.” Sirius reached into his bag and pulled out a canteen.

“Oh.” Remus got out of bed and took the coffee from him. “Thank you.” He scratched his bare chest, too tired to be self-conscious.

“Where are you going?”

“To the loo. You’ll find me some clothes, yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Sirius, before Remus shut the door behind him. In the bathroom, he smoothed back his hair with some water and scratched at his stubble, which made him look even more tired than usual. “Why do you care?” he muttered. Still, he got a razor and a facial serum and shaved, bringing back some of the youth he’d lost from the physical toll of transforming.

By the time he returned to the bedroom, Sirius had laid out three different clothing options. “Right, this one is quite a rocker look, this one is more posh and probably the nicest thing you own, and—”

“I like the first one.”

“Yeah, the third isn’t your style, I just thought it looked cozy.”

“If you’d like, you can wear it.” Since Remus had hit a growth spurt a year prior, Sirius was now five inches shorter than him. “Well, the jumper—you’re too short for everything else.” He threw it to Sirius, who put it on over his shirt.

“Want to wear my jacket?” Sirius handed it to him. “Just use a spell to make it bigger.”

“Alright.” Remus pulled on the jeans, the Weird Sisters shirt, and finally the leather jacket, which was now a bit too big in the shoulders. “Now I’d just need some jewelry and this would be something you’d wear.”

“Do I have good taste?”

“In clothing? Yes.” Remus smirked and grabbed his wallet.

“What does that mean, were you going to say I don’t have good taste in men?”

“C’mon, let’s go.”

Apparating would have been loads easier, but Sirius was stubborn about using his motorcycle. Remus got on behind Sirius, wrapping his arms around his waist as usual. This was the strategy Sirius used to woo men he picked up, whether flying with wizards or driving with Muggles.

Once they were up in the air, Remus pressed one side of his face against Sirius’ back, protecting himself from the wind. In his head, he played out what the courting usually looked like—Sirius tells the guy to hold on, then he’s in awe of how cool Sirius is, and after he’s been holding Sirius for twenty minutes, it’s natural that they’d hook up . . .

“Alright?” Sirius shouted above the wind.

“Alright,” Remus shouted back.

They landed the bike on the roof of an apartment building. Across the street, there was a Muggle department store that Sirius wanted to Apparate into. It wasn’t the first time they’d shoplifted together, though usually James tagged along, sometimes Peter. Deadly silent, the posh store was filled with rows upon rows of clothing, more clothing than in Diagon Alley combined. They ran up and down the aisles, pulling whatever they fancied from the racks and dropping them in Sirius’ enchanted bag. When they had tired of this, the pair stole drinks from a nearby Muggle bar, then Sirius led them to a spa he had canvassed earlier that week.

“Check this out.” They were in what must have been the main room of the spa. Sirius closed his eyes, left hand raised along with his wand-holding right. There was a distant woosh, and then he took out his wand. _“Muggulus Electrica! Scourigify Maxima!”_ All the lights flickered on, water began to flow, and steam rose up from the pools.

Remus was wondering what he was expected to wear at the spa when Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tin. Inside were several blue pills, each imprinted with a dragon symbol. “I got these from a friend. They’re blue dragons, the same ones we did at James’ birthday party last year.”

“Lovely.” Remus let Sirius put one on his tongue. “Cheers.”

Only a minute passed before the drug took effect. For the first twenty or thirty minutes, they were so high that they simply sat in the whirlpool and went around and around. Logic melted. After recovering from this, they got out of the pool in search of new, more interesting things: the mud baths, the steam room, the hot tub. Without the pills, Remus would have fallen asleep right away—it must have been past three. Only after the pair had explored half the spa did a sense of modesty, an awareness that they were both stark naked, cut through Remus’ high.

Given the years of transformations Sirius had witnessed, Remus baring himself to his friends was nothing new, even if he’d rather them not see the years’ worth of scarring that wound across his body. He never saw Sirius like this, though, so he’d always imagined him as more graceful, lithe. Now, stare dumbed down by the drugs, he noticed the sharper angles and swatch of hair and—the remarkable back. He knew he was staring at Sirius’ back for too long, but the way his shoulder blades moved was hypnotizing. He would have kept staring if Sirius hadn’t left the main room in search of the sauna.

Remus searched for a pool to cool himself down in. Once the shock of the cold faded, he closed his eyes and tried to empty his head. He knew he had fallen asleep when he woke up to Sirius’ voice, “Hey, are you getting tired?”

“Thought I’d take a nap.” He glanced at Sirius, but then closed his eyes again, and watched the twinkling of light in his eyelids. And then, fingertips touched his head, and Sirius began to lightly rub his scalp. The twinkling lights in Remus’ vision suddenly became fireworks. He bucked his hips a bit, and maybe moaned, though his own voice was distant.

“Feel good?” said Sirius from far away.

“Mhm. Can you keep doing that? Please?” Remus felt as though he were floating in a field of energy. He thought he was close to coming at the start until the swirls on his head kept going, and with each passing second he hardly believed he could feel any better than he already did.

“Moony.” Sirius’s fingers stopped and he laughed. “Does it really feel that good?”

“Yeah,” said Remus weakly, knowing Sirius could see how hard he was. There was little point in covering himself now. “Sorry, I got caught up in—this is really strong shit.”

“I know, I was surprised, too.”

“I can’t believe—”

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it.” They both laughed, and the sparks returned. Sirius traced his fingernails up Remus’ neck, into his hair, leaving prickly trails of sensation. “Moony, if you want to touch yourself . . . you should.”

Relieved, Remus did so as Sirius massaged his head, sending small splashes from where he broke the surface. As soon as he imagined that Sirius must enjoy what he was seeing, wanted to touch himself too, wanted to take him then and there—he was sent over the edge. Off of a sudden push of confidence, he reached up behind himself and slid his hand along Sirius’ thigh. He felt the same shivers he had felt, and a warm wash of satisfaction rushed through him.

“Ah, fuck,” said Sirius, tightly gripping Remus’ hand. He let go and sighed. “That was fucking amazing. Are you still tired?”

Remus laughed. “Yeah, it was. And no.” This could mean nothing or everything; he didn’t care. “Now I’m really hungry, though.”

“We should find the nearest chip shop!”

They cleaned the spa and returned it to how they had found it. The next hour slowed as they came down from the high, full from curry chips and chilled by the night. Remus’ body was light, full of happy energy, and he imagined himself like an inflating balloon, filled with more and more air. He may have told Sirius this, and if he had, Sirius would have embraced him hard to see if he’d pop, and they would have laughed and laughed . . .

When Remus awoke, he was swaddled by a sea of blankets, and felt that moving would require summoning all of his strength. As he became aware of his body, he realized he was thirsty and needed to piss, which was enough motivation to get out of the enormous bed.

Looking around, he remembered the room as one of the Potter Estate’s guest bedrooms. In the back corner, Sirius slept in a reclining chair, mouth ajar, almost snoring. Why not sleep with him in the bed . . .? The memory of the night before nudged him with an answer, but he was too distracted to deal with that at the moment. Before he could open the door, it flew open, flooding the room with light.

“Morning!” said James, close to shouting.

“Merlin’s balls, Prongs, have you no respect for the dead?” Sirius groaned, covering his eyes.

“Shit, sorry,” whispered James, shutting the door. “I did it! She said yes! We went out for the nicest dinner, then spent the night at a posh hotel I reserved . . . I just got back.”

Sirius got to his feet in time for James to hug him. “Congratulations, mate.”

Something had dropped in Remus’ stomach. “Since when were you planning to propose?”

“Oh, it’s been in the works for the past few weeks. Sorry for not telling you, only Padfoot knew. He helped me decide what to do for her.”

“No worries,” said Remus, now embracing James, “I’m happy for you.” His heart pounded so quickly it felt as though it was burning in his chest. “I realized I promised my mother I would go to the market with her and I’m guessing it’s closing soon.”

“Wait, Moony,” said Sirius, taking a step toward him.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I’m assuming you’ll want to celebrate with us.” Remus knew Sirius’ eyes were on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look in his direction.

“Of course,” said James, looking at him without really seeing him. “I’ll send an owl once we’ve made plans.”

“I’m really happy for you, James. Lily is perfect for you.”

“Thank you, Remus. She may be perfect for me, but I certainly don’t deserve her!”

“You may be right, but I still couldn’t imagine you with anyone else.” Sirius’ face flashed with pain. “Anyhow, let me know about tonight. I’ll see you both later.”

Remus walked as quickly as he could down the corridor, into the entrance hall and out of the Potters’ mansion. He had been foolish to assume Sirius wanted to spend time with him out of any particular care for him or their friendship. No, he wanted a distraction. James was getting married, leaving Sirius behind. _Of fucking course_. What had he really gotten his hopes up for? Some sign that he was enough, maybe.

He thought of the recruitment letter sitting in his desk drawer and decided to burn it.

**Sirius** and Remus' Night Out, 29 July 1978

Sirius Apparated outside of Remus’ house, then scaled the wall to climb in through his bedroom window. Remus sat up in his bed, shirtless, his hair wild from sleep. “Sirius?”

“ _Muffliato_. _Lumos_. Hey, Moony. We’re going out.”

Remus flopped a pillow over his face. “Do you ever sleep?”

“Oh, of course. Very rarely this early, though.”

“It’s one in the morning!” Remus had peeked out from under the pillow.

“So there’s plenty of night ahead of us. Get dressed. I promise it will be fun, we’re going to London.”

“Fine. You can pick something out for me to wear. In the meantime, I’m going to get some coffee.”

“Here.” As if Sirius would come unprepared. How many years had Remus relied on coffee in the morning?

“Oh.” Remus got out of bed and took the canteen from him. “Thank you.” Scratching his chest, he took a swig of coffee.

“Where are you going?”

“To the loo. You’ll find me some clothes, yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Sirius, before Remus closed the door. He went over to the closet and pressed his face into the shirts, breathing in slowly. The smell was familiar to him, but distant; he was used to James. “Stop. Boundaries,” muttered Sirius to himself, peeling away from a particularly soft jumper so he could look through the small number of shirts Remus owned. He quickly picked his favorite pieces and built outfits around them. Just as he had finished arranging everything, Remus came back into the room, freshly shaven and looking a bit brighter. He finished his coffee as he studied Sirius’ choices.

“Right, this one is quite a rocker look, this one is more posh and probably the nicest thing you own, and . . .”

“I like the first one.”

“Yeah, the third isn’t your style, I just thought it looked cozy.”

“If you’d like, you can wear it. Well, the jumper—you’re too short for everything else.” He tossed it to Sirius, who considered whether to completely change or just put it on over his shirt. He decided on the latter.

“Want to wear my jacket?” Sirius handed it to him. “Just use a spell to make it bigger.”

“Alright.” Remus didn’t seem to mind Sirius’ gaze as he dressed. Finally getting laid had apparently worked some magic on him; even the jacket seemed to recognize it. Had that girl appreciated Remus the way he deserved? “Now I’d just need some jewelry and this would be something you’d wear.”

“Do I have good taste?”

“In clothing? Yes.” Remus smirked and grabbed his wallet. Like he’d need it.

“What does that mean, were you going to say I don’t have good taste in men?”

“C’mon, let’s go.”

When riding his motorcycle with those he planned to hook up with, or James, or Remus, Sirius would fantasize about how they felt pressed against him, imagining that they couldn’t wait to be on top of him in bed. James liked to tease him when they rode, nearly causing them to crash on more than a couple occasions. Remus tended to be silent.

Gripping the handles of the motorcycle, he veered up and climbed higher in the sky, until the night mist whipped at their faces. “Alright?” Sirius shouted above the wind.

“Alright,” Remus shouted back.

Sirius spotted the large lit roof of an apartment building and brought them down to land. For weeks he’d been eying Jenners, a department store with some of the poshest Muggle labels. Remus was less enthusiastic about the whole endeavor, but went along with it, keeping up as they ran from shop to shop to nab the best things they could find. Once they got bored, they summoned a few bottles of primo liquor from the bar, then downed some of each before Sirius Apparated them to Clearlight Spa.

The place was deserted, and Sirius cast some spells to keep it that way. Once they’d reached the main room, Sirius said, “Check this out. _Muggulus Electrica! Scourigy Maxima!”_ Lights flickered on, fresh water flowed, and steam flooded the room.

A few weeks prior, one of Sirius’ ex-flings had given him a set of pills when they were both high at a party. He’d been saving them for a special occasion, and with everything in his life about to change, he could think of nothing better to do than completely relax. “I got these from a friend. They’re blue dragons, the same ones we did at James’ birthday party last year.”

“Lovely.”

Sirius placed a pill on Remus’ tongue and another on his own.

“Cheers.”

It only took a minute to hit. Thank Merlin, because Sirius (still relatively sober) had been starting to wonder how awkward it’d be for them to be in the buff together. Instead, he could now focus on having fun. The spa’s whirlpool, though Muggle-made, may as well have been magic as it spun them round. Everything felt better than he’d imagined, better than sex: the mud baths, the steam room, the hot tub. In their oasis from the real world, nothing threatened to dampen Sirius’ high. So what if James was getting married, leaving him behind? He had Remus, who was arguably healthier to be around.

Sirius watched Remus walk to the side of the pool closer to him. He’d somehow not noticed before how gorgeous Remus’ thighs were. Most of the times he had seen Remus naked were after his transformation, so it made sense. 

Aware that thinking too much about him would start to show, Sirius told Remus he was going to find the sauna. In reality, he paced just out of sight, imagining himself back into Professor Binns’ class, trying to recall the most boring thing they had learned. Unfortunately, he’d slept through most of History of Magic and couldn’t remember much, so he instead tried to think of the Trolley Lady, her too-big dress and sagging face. That did the trick. By the time he returned to the main room, Remus was floating in one of the smaller pools, asleep. “Hey, are you getting tired?”

“Thought I’d take a nap.” Remus opened his eyes to glance at him, then looked back away. The droplets of water that had caught in his lashes flooded down his face when he shut his eyes.

Sirius stretched out on the tile behind Remus and fondly scratched his head. In response, Remus half-sighed, half-moaned and bucked his hips. His eyes opened to focus on something Sirius couldn’t see.

“Feel good?” asked Sirius in a whisper.

“Mhm. Can you keep doing that?” Remus’ brows knitted slightly, and he tilted his head back. “Please?” When he begged, his voice cracked a little. Sirius pressed harder, but more slowly, and, as though it were happening miles away, saw that Remus’ body was responding to the sensation.

Sirius stopped and giggled despite himself. “Moony, does it really feel that good?”

“Yeah,” said Remus hoarsely, moving his hand to cover himself. “Sorry, I got caught up in—this is really strong shit.”

“I know, I was surprised, too.” Sirius felt his dick twitch. 

“I can’t believe—”

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it.” They both laughed. Sirius swallowed his excitement and traced his fingernails up Remus’ neck, into his hair, and scratched. Remus bucked into his hand. “Moony, if you want to touch yourself . . . you should.”

After a pause, Remus began to move his hand slowly in time with Sirius massaging his scalp. Sirius was hard now, too, so much so that it hurt. He kept his eye trained on Remus’ hand, as though doing so would unlock the secrets of the universe. They were forged together in swirling lights and pleasure—and then Remus came and touched Sirius’ thigh, kneading his fingers into his skin, and Sirius quickly burst into burning red and gold. “Ah, fuck,” he gasped, unaware that he was holding Remus’ hand until he cooled down. “That was fucking amazing.” He couldn’t stop trembling. “Are you still tired?”

Remus laughed. “Yeah, it was. And no.” There was silence except for the stirring of water in the pool and distant fountains. “Now I’m really hungry, though.”

“We should find the nearest chip shop!”

They cleaned the spa and returned it to how it had been. The next hour slowed as they came down from the high, full from curry chips and chilled by the night. Sirius’ body was heavy,full of longing for something he couldn’t name, and he imagined himself as the compressed bricks of the buildings in Muggle London. He may have imagined it was James whispering in his ear at the pub, telling him that this was the beginning of something, sharing a secret, a confession that would later be forgotten . . .

“Morning!” said James, jolting Sirius out of his sleep.

“Merlin’s balls, Prongs, have you no respect for the dead?” Sirius groaned, covering his eyes.

“Shit, sorry,” whispered James, shutting the door. “I did it! She said yes! We went out for the nicest dinner, then spent the night at a posh hotel I reserved . . . I just got back.”

The memories from the night before became clearer. “Congratulations, mate.” Bloody hell, they had a lot to talk about.

“Since when were you planning to propose?”

Sirius looked over at Remus, something from his heart dripping regret into his gut. He’d fucked up. That much was clear from Remus’ face, at least.

“Oh, I’ve been planning it for the past few weeks,” said James. “Sorry for not telling you, only Padfoot knew. He helped me decide what to do for her.”

“No worries. I’m happy for you.” There was a terrible pause, and Sirius held his breath. “I realized I promised my mother I would go to the market with her and I’m guessing it’s closing soon.”

Sirius took a step toward him. “Wait, Moony.”

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I’m assuming you’ll want to celebrate with us.” Remus avoided Sirius’ eye, arms stiff at his sides. He probably passed as tired and awkward to James.

“Of course,” said James, the glow of the news still in his face. “I’ll send an owl once we’ve made plans.”

“I’m really happy for you, James.” His eyes flickered to Sirius, then back. “Lily is perfect for you.”

_Ouch_.

“Thank you, Remus. She may be perfect for me, but I certainly don’t deserve her!”

“You may be right, but I still couldn’t imagine you with anyone else. Anyhow, let me know about tonight. I’ll see you both later.”

James waited a few seconds after Remus had shut the door to say, “He was acting a bit odd, don’t you think? Did you two get into a row last night?”

“No.” Well, a row of sorts. More accurately, a row in Sirius’ head that told him not to fall for another straight boy. “Not that I remember.”

Clapping him on the back and chuckling, James said, “You were quite fucked, then, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Sirius tried to laugh, too.

James’ smile faded, and he scratched his chin. “We should probably address the blast-ended skrewt in the room, shouldn’t we?”  
“The skrewt being. . .”

“Werewolves are organizing, joining You-Know-Who. It’s all over the _Prophet._ ”

“Are you saying Remus is a liability?”

* * *

Closer, 12 October 1991

Raising Harry meant that it was rare for Sirius and Remus to be alone together, and even when they were, they found themselves so exhausted that Sirius didn’t have the energy to flirt. He did, however, have the energy to go out on his own to hook up with strangers. Whenever he stayed the night at someone else’s home, he would come back the next morning with groceries, bread, or something else to cover his tracks. Maybe when Remus was younger and naïve, he could get away with leaving his annoyance at Sirius unexamined. At thirty, he was middle-aged (in werewolf years) and therefore too old to retaliate by parading his own hookups or freezing over.

After Harry left for his first year at Hogwarts, it took the pair the better part of a month to relearn how to properly live together. Luckily, Sirius worked full time while Remus stayed at home to work on his novel, so they had some time apart to adjust. Despite Remus’ best efforts to keep his feelings in check, Sirius’ escapades became even more obvious with their son out of the house.

One morning, Sirius sauntered in after a night out, whistling until he caught Remus looking at him from the dining table.

“Where have you been?” asked Remus.

“I . . .” Sirius stalled by grabbing an apple, biting into it, and chewing as he thought. After swallowing, he said, “I snuck into a Muggle museum.”

Sighing, Remus took his glasses off and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Why on earth are you lying? I’m not your mother.”

“Of course you aren’t. I wasn’t lying about the museum; we started there, and then I ended up sleeping over at his house.”

There was always a “we” with Sirius. “Oh yeah? You have a good time?”

“It was decent enough. There wasn’t that much chemistry between us—he’s not one for conversation—and right after we fucked he fell fast asleep. As in, he was out probably thirty seconds after. I’ve never seen that happen so quickly.”

Although he itched to say more, Remus managed to simply say, “That’s lovely.”

“Ha. I appreciate your restraint. And what about you?” Sirius sat down at the table and tilted his head to read a stray piece of parchment. “Hard at work?”

“As much as I can at the moment. I’m . . . struggling a bit with Claude.”

“Struggling? Pray tell. You have a direct source right here. A celebrity, even.”

They smiled at each other, the tension finally eased.

“He is based on you, but don’t expect a perfect copy.”

“Sure.” He studied the reference page for Claude’s love interest. “Who’s Sebastian based on, then?”

Remus’ heart jumped. He knew this would come up eventually. “Your ex, Frey.” 

“Hm.” Sirius made a face. “Do we end up together?”

“I haven’t decided. I’m struggling to . . . you know, Athena and Luther have a bigger romantic arc. The whole deal: flirting, unrequited love, dating, a wedding, even a love scene—”

“Oh, Moony, you scandalize me.”

“So I’m struggling with—it would be odd if Claude and Sebastian didn’t have such a scene as well, right?”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s your novel.”

“Come on, Pads.”

“It’s your audience, then. Two _homos_ in one book? You’re already taking a risk with that, to push it further . . .”

“That’s just it. I wouldn’t want to get it wrong when most people would be averse to such a story to begin with.”

“Just use your imagination, then, and I’ll tell you if you’re close enough.”

“You would only make fun of me if I miss the mark.”

“Of course. I’d have to.”

“Would you really?"

“Unless . . .” Sirius pursed his lips and drew his finger in a slow circle on the table. “If you ever wanted to figure things out, I could give you a demonstration . . .”

“Ha.” In a flash, Remus pictured Sirius’ agile hand around him. “You’re too old to be joking about that.”

“And you’re too straight to have such a big stick up your arse.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re no fun.” Sirius tapped his chin, thinking. “Surely we could find someone else to put something up your—”

Remus shot _Levicorpus_ in his direction, sending papers flying.

“Oi! Watch your manuscript!” Sirius blocked another spell. “You’ve made too much of a fuss about me cocking it up.”

“Very convenient,” said Remus, waving his wand to put everything in order again. “Would you like a proper meal? I’ll make brunch.”

That night, Sirius stayed in, which was unusual for a Saturday. He and Remus sat up and read together in the study before going to bed early.

Though sleeping apart, they began to dream together.

Remus' Dream

“Hey, Moony.”

When Remus looked up from his drink, he saw Sirius standing in the doorway, bare chest flushed. The study was bathed in black.

“Do you want to watch me and this bloke?”

It took a while for the meaning of what Sirius had said to register. “Er, weren’t we joking?”

Sirius stepped into the room. Once at the desk, he reached over Remus’ shoulder to touch the pile of parchment, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “I was completely serious.”

“You—” Finding Sirius’ face too close to his, Remus stood up. “Bloody hell, you’re still making jokes.”

“I try. You needn’t do anything, you know. Even bring this,” he picked up a piece of parchment, “if you like. Take notes.”

“So I’d just sit there?”

“And observe. The guy’s attractive enough, I doubt it will be painful for you. Certainly not for me.”

“Right.” His mind leapt ahead, tried to anticipate what may happen, but time wasn’t working as usual. “Right. This won’t be something I’ll regret later, will it?”

Sirius shrugged, then sauntered back toward the bedroom.

Mentally cursing himself and his goddamn curiosity, Remus stood and followed. The man standing at the foot of Sirius’ bed didn’t introduce himself, just looked him up and down once before returning his attention to Sirius’ trousers.

They kissed, hands weaving and grabbing with an immediate desperation that caught Remus off guard. It was expected enough, what they were drawn to. Something about their bodies, though, their physicality, was different. Their motions spread in fractals across his vision, some rough and some soft, all churning with heat.

Remus woke up suddenly, and realized he must have moaned out loud. As his awareness returned, he heard the clink of glasses in the kitchen. Quickly, he fell back into a half-sleep and touched himself, playing out the rest of the dream, where he went from observer to lover, overwhelmed by the two men. In his dream, he hadn’t been able to see the sharp gray of Sirius’ eyes, feel the soft petals of his hair against his skin, taste the sweat on his back. He finished before he heard Sirius on the stairs again.

Sirius' Dream

Sirius was sort of himself, sort of Claude. He stood at the front window of Grimmauld Place, staring out into the street at Sebastian. Given that he had stood outside for days, waiting, unable to enter, Sebastian seemed to be a vampire.

“Come in,” mouthed Claude, and went to his bedroom. By the time he was under the sheets again, the front lock to the house clicked. There were no footfalls, nor any other sound that would have given Sebastian away. However unlikely for him to even be in bed two minutes after his invitation, Claude pretended to be asleep when the door to his bedroom slowly opened.

“Good evening, lovely,” said Sebastian, his breath stirring Claude’s hair. His mouth hovered for too long over Claude’s neck, as though unsure.

When Claude opened his eyes to see what had come to feed, Sebastian had become Remus, kissing his neck, hand trailing down his stomach. Claude, now Sirius, pulled Remus tighter to him, then rolled over to be on top.

“You made a mistake, coming here,” said Sirius, pinning Remus down.

Sebastian/Remus’ fangs glinted when he smiled. “I know exactly what I’m doing,” he replied, breath shaky, and they kissed. Everything apart from the sounds Remus made was there, bathed in fog—would he sound sexy, or like a dying animal? 

Sirius awoke to the lonely atmosphere of his bedroom. Dream-Remus hazy before his eyes, he rutted into the bed, until shame made him stop. At the moment of his waking, he would have brought Remus inside him then and there; now, he remembered the desire his dream-Remus felt was a fiction, a fantasy he couldn’t entertain in good conscience. In a trance-like state, he headed for the kitchen.

As he walked past Remus’ room, he heard something and stopped. Sleep talking, completely unintelligible. And then—just when he peered inside—a soft moan. Remembering himself, Sirius retreated, and continued on his mission to get water. The sound played over and over again in his head. By the time he checked back by Remus’ room, it was silent as the grave.

* * *

His Birthday, 3 November 1991

“Honestly, Moony, how’d you get so good at gift-giving? You always know what I want.”

“Ah, I’m decent enough at it. Besides, your bike desperately needed updating.”

“You’re so modest.” Sirius picked up his glass and raised it. “To you, for your unending patience and kindness. And for putting up with me for twenty years.”

The glasses clinked louder than normal. It was then that Remus realized his senses were maxed out, revving at a higher speed. He took a large sip of his wine, hoping to quell his nerves. Thankfully, Sirius was busy comparing the brand of French wine he’d bought with what he’d had a week prior on a once-off date.

“So it’s better or worse?”

“It’s not as good, certainly, but close.” He caught Remus’ eye and wrapped an arm around him. “I’d much rather celebrate with you, drinking the shittiest wine, than be with that prat and the finest wine his fancy job in the City can afford him.”

“You make it sound like we live like paupers.”

“Only when it comes to booze.”

“Then remind me to get you the finest scotch for your next birthday.”

“I’d rather have gin.”

“Piss off.”

Although they had been playful, somehow the silence left after this went for too long. “This is admittedly . . . awkward for me to bring up,” said Sirius, removing his arm and taking a sip of wine, “but you haven’t dated anyone in three years now.”

“That is a true statement.”

“Why?”

“It should be obvious, Padfoot.”

“Because you’re a werewolf? Don’t tell me that’s still—”

“It’s not going to change, alright, so of course that’s still why. Why would I put someone in danger who I care about,” he caught the look on Sirius’ face, “who didn’t volunteer to accept me, let alone help? How many people would even consider being with a werewolf, even if I am medicated?”

“Very few. And even fewer who are single, fewer who are women, fewer who are attracted to men, fewer still who are single straight women who can put up with a man who wakes up at six in the morning on the weekends—”

“Are you quite done?”

“If I’m annoying you, you’re annoying me! Quit being so down on yourself and take a real risk for once in your life.”

“I’ll only stop arguing because it’s your birthday.”

“Remus . . . whatever danger you think you still pose, it’s not going to matter to someone who really cares for you. Over everything, it’s seeing you in pain that would be difficult for a partner. Your pain may be extraordinary, but you’re not alone in it. And above all else, you have to know it doesn’t define you.”

“I know that, Pads. I do.” Remus wanted to hear him, he did, except his entire body felt warm, tingly, his skin too tight, somehow. He was faced with a dilemma: if he made any indication that he was interested in Sirius, he would have to live with the rejection that may follow. Friendship-altering rejection. So, he waited for a sign.

“I’m sorry for pushing you, I shouldn’t have. It’s only—I feel you becoming more distant. Like you’re preparing yourself for a life alone when you shouldn’t be. Not that you have to be with a woman who you love and marry; your bitterness is why you’re becoming this way, and I would hate to see you make yourself miserable, frankly.”

“Sure, I get it.” He rubbed his neck. “I don’t want you to think that what I have now isn’t enough. Because it is. You mean so much to me.”

“But don’t you want more?”

The way Sirius looked at him sent blood rushing to his face.

“Shit, you’re bleeding again,” said Sirius, leaning closer to inspect the cut, a small remainder of his last transformation. Sirius moved a thumb along Remus’ jawline to wipe the blood away.

Remus forced himself forward, and time slowed. The open-mouthed confusion of Sirius, his gasp of mingled surprise and pleasure when their lips met, the scratch of his beard and the soft of his tongue—they filled Remus’ head with light. All he could think was _fucking finally_.

Sirius turned his head away. “Oh.”

“Bad ‘oh,’ or good ‘oh’?”

“Good, it’s good, really good, I just—how much have you been drinking?”

They both looked at Remus’ wine glass, which was still half full. “That was my first glass, you moron.”

“So you’re not dru—” Remus interrupted Sirius by kissing him again. He placed a hand on Sirius’ chest, and realized then how sweaty his palm was.

Sirius gripped Remus’ wrist, but didn’t force him away. He used it to keep himself steady as he pinned Remus to the couch. “If you want me to stop, tell me,” he breathed.

“I will,” Remus managed to reply. Their kisses were slow, only getting deeper when they had found a rhythm. Then Sirius grinded against him and began to kiss his neck. A moan slipped out from deep within Remus, and Sirius chuckled, moving his hand to press against the front of his trousers.

Before Sirius could ask, Remus said, “Please. I want you.”

They looked at each other. Sirius was breathless, face flushed, and Remus wondered if he looked the same. “Fuck, Moony, I want you, too. You’re sure about this?”

“Completely.”

Seconds, _years_ later, Sirius had him in his mouth, strands of long hair catching on his eyelashes. Periodically, he stopped to look up at Remus, swapping his mouth for his hand. And then, bringing the world tumbling down, Sirius slid out of his pants, slipping a hand behind himself and moaning over Remus’ cock.

“You’re gorgeous,” said Remus, now watching the movement of Sirius’ fingers. “But— _ah_ —you’ll have to slow down if you wanted to . . .”

Sirius pulled away to work himself with both hands. Sweat glinted on his neck and collarbone. Despite the rigor of his movements, Remus expected him to freeze in place, his olive skin and slim frame cemented here, on his knees.

“My god, Sirius, you’re a bloody work of art.”

Sirius chuckled. “Take off your trousers, will you?”

Remus’ trousers were already down to his calves, so he pulled them the rest of the way off, along with his pants. When he thought he was close to death from just watching, Sirius got up and straddled him.

They moved together almost lazily, without any urgency or the kind of animalistic fervor that Remus had pictured when he imagined their first time. Sirius gripped the couch with one hand, Remus’ shoulder with the other, the sound of his staggered breath coursing from Remus’ ear down.

“Does it feel good?” asked Sirius, lips brushing his ear.

“Yeah. _Ah_ , it feels so— _ah_ —good.” Remus had difficulty staying inside him at this angle, so Sirius pushed him down onto his back.

“And how about this?”

“Yes, _ah_ —keep going. _Ah, shit_ , harder, please, Sirius . . .”

After what could have been forever, Remus’ neck begun to ache, dimming his pleasure, so he gripped Sirius’ hips and took control. “I’m—close,” Sirius managed to say, his voice making the world bend with heat and color as they came together, a bit clumsily, panting.

Hot skin, fingertips, the curve of Sirius’ body as he walked to get his wand: Remus’ surroundings gradually returned to his focus. “Back in a moment,” he said, and went to the bathroom. By the time Remus had gone to the loo and had magicked himself clean, Sirius had left the main room to go to lay in his queen bed, wine bottle and glasses in hand.

“Not exactly what I had planned for tonight,” said Sirius, smirking as he poured Remus’ glass. “That’s not to say I wasn’t ready.”

“What d’you mean? Cheers.” They touched their glasses together, and Remus stretched out beside Sirius. 

Head cocked, Sirius was ready to ask, “What d’you mean, ‘What d’you mean?’”

“Merlin,” sighed Remus, rubbing his temple, “you’ve done this thing for the longest time . . .”

“Thing?” Sirius kissed Remus’ shoulder, then his cheek.

“Flirted with me. Relentlessly. Even when I was in relationships—which irked me, by the way. Angie even asked if you fancied me.” Remus drank deeply from his glass, then set it down. “And yet it rarely seemed as though you meant it.”

“Ah.” Though Sirius simply wanted to bask in the afterglow of lust for the time being, Remus would want to make sense of it right away.

“So, why? Even as far back as when we were twelve, you played with my hair, complimented me, included me in raunchy jokes that, to be honest, I didn’t understand at the time.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“You even did it at James and Lily’s wedding! Right after you told me you were in love with someone else.” When had James become “someone else”? He regretted phrasing it that way, but it had already been said.

“You must have some idea why.”

“Sure I do. I just want to hear you explain it.”

“Fair enough.” Wine glass forgotten on the nightstand, Sirius turned onto his side and traced his finger along Remus’ chest. “The short of it is, I fancied you. Obviously I cared deeply for James, and was attracted to him, too—in a different way. I knew he’d never feel the same way I felt about him, whereas with you, there was a chance . . .” How many signs had Sirius agonized over? “As far as why it seemed I never meant it, well, I would’ve rather not confront how I really felt. And perhaps I was testing you a bit. If you ever thought I was joking, it was because I didn’t want you to take me seriously.” Hope fluttered into Remus’ eyes as he saw more and more clearly. “And . . . we never really spoke about what happened at the spa. The timing—at the time, I thought it meant nothing to you. But now . . . I’m guessing you saw me and James the night after and thought—correctly, probably—that I was too fixated on him.”

“There was no room for me with how in love you were with him.” Remus studied Sirius’ reaction closely, watching the slope of his brow shift as he tried to think of a response.

“I used to imagine, you know, what if he fancied me back? Now I’m glad he hadn’t. I wouldn’t give up Harry over it, and certainly not you.”

Remus gazed at Sirius, touched his face, ran his fingers over his stubble. Caught up in the sheer joy of lying with him, Remus lost track of when their conversation began and when it melted into kissing. “It wasn’t just messing around to me, at the spa,” he said, pausing a moment. “I would’ve done it sober, if I’d had the courage, or understood how I felt.”

Remus’ hand rested on his thigh, ricocheting Sirius’ mind to the past, then to the future, as he imagined feeling like this for years to come.

“You could’ve told me, Moony,” said Sirius, breath unsteady again.

“As ridiculous as it seems now, I thought I was being selfish.”

Remus always danced around the point; even now, with his hand, he was painfully indirect. “How?”

“Taking you for myself. That would be selfish. Trying things with you, when I didn’t know if I wanted you that way—I knew I loved you, but there was too much at stake. Our friendship, being good fathers. . . ”

“I know you said— _mm!_ —a lot there, but you love me?” Sirius smiled and batted his eyelashes.

“You’re such a smartass. I meant I’m _in love_ with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too. Hopefully that helps you not feel so selfish. We can be selfish together.”

* * *

REVIEW OF ‘EVERY CLOSED HEART’ - _The Quibbler_ , 10 November 1992. Three of four stars.

From the loss of loved ones to the strengthening of personal bonds, Remus Lupin’s debut novel ‘Every Closed Heart’ is a needed exploration of the agonies and triumphs of war in wizarding society. Although ‘Every Closed Heart’ is fictional, Lupin based its narrative on his experience in the war and as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a secret organization that contributed to the eventual defeat of You-Know-Who’s forces. While reading the novel, readers may find themselves wishing it was an autobiographical account of Lupin’s wartime experiences rather than an invented story that wants for greater political depth . . .

. . . What shines brightest in the novel is its emotional core: the homosexual relationship between Claude and Sebastian. The lovers become estranged during the war but later reunite. This romantic arc is loosely based on Lupin’s relationship with his partner Sirius Black (the pair made their relationship public earlier this year). “It was me,” a tearful Claude says to Sebastian after rescuing him from Merivel’s prison. “For a moment, I was your executioner.” Claude’s guilt over betraying Sebastian illuminates how the extraordinary conditions of war lead people to make choices they would otherwise find appalling. Their story challenges the tradition of wartime novels such as ‘For the Lesser Good’ and ‘Le Conflit’ in which resistance is posited as the project of heterosexual men. One can now more easily imagine what other stories are waiting to be told.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you're wanting more, I wrote a Sirius x Remus fic in 2014 if you'd like to read that ("The Untold Story of Sirius Black"). Also, there will be some Sirius x Remus in the Drarry fic I'm currently writing. Let me know if you enjoyed this :)


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